


She Said 'Come On Over'

by gala_apples



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Background Het, Cisgirl Jack, F/F, Fake AH Crew, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Ryan Haywood, Light BDSM, Polyamory, Underwear Kink, fabric kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Ten years later the news will be talking about how the FAH Crew rose to power thanks in part to being so close knit and inseparable, and no one will correctly guess their foundations.





	She Said 'Come On Over'

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'fabric' prompt for seasonofkink.

Jack’s a very blunt woman. It’s made her some enemies, but what the fuck ever, like she wants to be friends with the easily offended anyway. So when she says her and Geoff’s apartment is a shithole, it really is a fucking awful, grimy, not to code in probably a hundred ways _shithole_. On the other hand, rent is cheap, and they don’t have much money at all. Trying to start a criminal empire takes a lot of capital, none of which they can afford to reinvest in things like rent and cable tv. So they don’t use the plug that makes the living room brown out, they don’t use the swollen kitchen drawers that don’t fully open and neither of them really think much about it.

Nor do the rest of their fledgling crew members, because everyone’s in the same boat. So when the girls come over, and there’s a cooler of ice to put their beers in, because the freezer is on the fritz again and the landlord doesn’t give a flying fuck, the most significant reaction is Ryan plucking out an ice cube and starting to suck on it. 

Jack thinks it funny that tonight, their one day of sharing a month, they all happened to wear florals. That’s supposed to be her thing. She wears Hawaiian floral every day, all greens and corals and black, palm ferns and wild birds. Yet here they are. Ryan’s in jeans and a tank with a massive overprinted lotus spreading from side seam to side seam, leather jacket already discarded somewhere or other. Lindsay’s got a cute skirt with photorealistic sunflowers. And Meg’s wearing a hoodie with Sailor Jerry style roses, almost an Ed Hardy vibe. All in all they’re four very different aesthetics. They’ve got a few things in common though, besides the flowers. The one that matters most to Jack right now is their sex drives.

See, the thing is, despite being a crew made out of four solid couples, they’re also all bisexual. Combine that with a few other factors -awareness that death is around every corner, early twenties horniness, crew integration being a necessity- and it’s a good recipe for the occasional tryst. Or, more specifically, the very directly arranged monthly boys vs girls orgy. Ryan of course being encouraged to join whichever gender group their affinity is currently for, that particular twenty eighth.

Jack loves Geoff, but she’s been looking forward to this. It doesn’t take a lot of small talk before Jack slides her fingers up the smooth surface of Lindsay’s yellow leather top. When she gets to the sweatheart neckline, she curls her fingers just the slightest bit underneath. Jack’s known Lindsay long enough to know she likes a good tease, drawn out sensation. That’s how Jack knows that when she goes home tonight Lindsay will spend hours telling Michael every illicit detail, and expect the same from her husband about the boys party. Talking filth is a good way to prolong the experience, especially if it leads to excitation sex.

That’s happened to Jack, with Geoff, once or twice. Not often, but a few times. She and Geoff don’t have a tell all policy. It’s much more of a ‘if you have questions about what happened when we’re apart, I’ll tell you’ policy. It’s less than Meg and Gavin have. As a couple they’re notorious for sharing every detail about every moment of their lives, down to toothbrush colour. Their texts must be in the millions. But it’s more sharing than Ryan and Jeremy, the months that Ryan’s with the other girls. Jeremy doesn’t want to know, has a jealous streak that barely allows for one evening a month.

Jack scrapes her fingernails lightly over Lindsay’s exposed collarbone. They’re pared short, you don’t come to an all girls night with sharp fingernails, but there’s just enough nail to make Lindsay shudder. Jack does it again and again, and Lindsay begins to pant. Jack digs in, just a little, fingers cutting tiny moons into her lover’s skin. Lindsay’s response is unconscious, automatic, and all the hotter to Jack for it. She tries to shift her weight from her left to right thigh, like there’s something she has to adjust. 

That’s where Jack breaks, she can’t stand it anymore. She sinks to her knees, arm loosely curled around Lindsay’s arm. She could get away if she wanted to, but staying apart isn’t what tonight is for, and Lindsay drops like there’s no other option. Once Jack’s got her that far, it’s easy to bear her to the carpet. It’s a paper thin brown thing covering every square inch except the kitchen and Geoff hates it, but even if they did have the money to change it, the lease says no reno allowed. For Jack’s purposes, hideous carpet floor sex is better than no floor sex.

Jack pulls Lindsay’s skirt over her head, not willing to spend the extra time struggling with the zipper. A quick action after an age of teasing heightens every feeling. Lindsay’s not wearing underwear. Smart girl. It’s not like the twenty eighth is for anything except a pants off lights off party. The crease of Lindsay’s leg and cunt is sweaty. It should be gross, would seem that way to someone ace. But Jack’s sex drive is cavernous, and she loves it. She’s made Lindsay sweat, heated her up enough that her leather can’t help but bake her. Maybe it’s wrong to have ego like that during sex, but she can at least say Geoff gets it. They’ve talked about it, one of those infrequent questions, if it’s wrong to feel powerful fucking someone. Geoff says no, that he gets a sense of pride while getting someone off, and that the way boys night has an undercurrent of competition is thrilling too. Everyone trying to earn bragging rights for best move made can get pretty intense. One of those few excitation sex moments; Geoff detailing the spreader bars and choking and wallsex the boys try to one-up each other with.

“Screw my leg, fuck me,” Lindsay orders. 

Jack starts by licking a long path up Lindsay’s slit. Her labia are puffy and wanting and Jack wants to soothe them. If Lindsay were Meg, she might try a gentle bite or two but Lindsay wouldn’t be into it. Instead Jack focuses on lavishing long wet strokes from hole to clit. The hood’s already pulled back and all Jack has to do to get Lindsay’s thighs shaking is tongue the side of it again and again. 

“Oh my god,” Lindsay moans. Jack smiles to herself, her lips on Lindsay’s. Exactly what she wants to hear. She knows this game, and there’ve been enough 28ths to knows how to make everyone win.

In the background, off tempo enough to their own desire that Jack actually hears it, Ryan and Meg are having their own fun. Jack wishes them well, but can’t pull her attention from the woman beneath her. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” The nearer to orgasm she is, the more Lindsay’s struck dumb. Each heavenly recitation is emphasized differently as she gets closer until Jack’s hearing her favourite version, the one that floods her panties with slick. Lindsay is as hot as porn when she wails _oh my god_ , god splitting into two syllables, the second much heavier and breathy. 

Jack continues to eat Lindsay out as she come down from her first orgasm of the evening. It’s the best part about swinging girls night; rapid multiple o’s. Jack loves Geoff wanting her so much he’ll get her off even when he can’t come, but there’s something to be said for mutual experience. 

“Can I go in on this?” Meg asks all of a sudden. 

Jack jumps. She stops eating Lindsay out to check her perimeter. Meg’s sitting on the floor near her, curled brown hair falling carelessly over her bare chest. Even half obscured, christ are Meg’s breasts delicious. 

“Go in deep,” Jack says, voice loaded. She v’s her index and middle finger in Lindsay’s slit and exposes her slutty hole to the room. The cold air must be startling. Lindsay’s hole tenses, winking at her. Holy fuck, are Meg’s fingers going to look good buried in her. Not that Jack will see it, tongue on her clit. She’ll feel Meg’s knuckles on her chin, if anything.

“No. I mean, I want a turn on space mountain Lindsay.”

“Okay,” she says, willing to grant Meg her happiness. It’s funny how Geoff talks about the sense of competition between the guys, while Jack knows it’s really the women who all have dominant personalities. It comes with empire building. Or maybe empire building comes with it. Hard to say what comes first: a need to be boss bringing a heavy career, or the lifestyle making her step up her game. Jack’s confident in her role beside Geoff, but here things could get clashing, if Jack and Lindsay refused to back down too. 

With Meg descending on Lindsay, Jack’s left with turning her attention to the fourth in their party. Jack’s not always lucky enough to get to have Ryan. Some months they’re so masc that it would be wrong for him to join Jack’s side of goings on. It’s nice, getting this chance.

Unlike Meg, Ryan’s still fully in her clothing. Jack reaches out with the hand not covered in Lindsay’s juices and cups the side of Ryan’s face. This time her hair is streaked with the blue of the blue and purple lotus, as well as lime and neon yellow. No doubt it’s the semi permanent, three washes and it’s out dye Jeremy favours. Maybe one day Jeremy will accept his premature balding and shave his head or something. For now he’s using dye as a means of distraction, and more often than not Ryan jumps on board too. Woman, man, or gender unaffiliated, Ryan is a person with obnoxious fashion sense. She has big dreams about fur coats and lizard skin cowboy boots.

When Jack steps in for the kiss, Ryan’s mouth isn’t ice cube cold. She must have spent some time kissing Meg, enough to warm up from the ice. Sexy, but disappointing. Jack wants to be on the other side of a frozen tongue. Temperature play is about the best kink Meg’s ever introduced, and Jack wishes every encounter could have it. She dreams of their criminal reach being expansive enough to have a chalet on a mountain, so Geoff can fuck her in the snow. 

As Ryan presses against her, she starts feeling something. A damp patch. Jack feels Ryan’s crotch, and sure enough, it’s wet. Whatever she and Meg were doing, at least Ryan came, if not Meg too. That’s so fucking hot. Jack burns with the need to have seen that, even just on a camera feed. Gavin talks dreamily of his empire goal to possess the expensive technology to spy on every camera in Los Santos. Times like these Jack gets it.

She rubs her hand along the soft cup of Ryan’s cock. She shudders under Jack’s administration. Ryan’s got a thing for overstimulation. They all do, kind of. If they didn’t they wouldn’t be having an all night fuck session in a group swing. But for Ryan it’s not just a state of relationship, it’s a kink to whimper about. Being felt up this soon after orgasm has to be driving her mad.

Jack doesn’t get Ryan to the point of completion. Before she’s even got her clothes off, Lindsay is screaming at Meg to let her come, goddamnit. Ryan’s ears perk up, and she breaks the kiss to look over at the two. 

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Ryan says. Only someone with well trained ears could hear the edge of maliciousness in her voice.

 

“Oh fuck, not Ryan,” Lindsay says. Everyone in the room knows she doesn’t mean it. If anything, Ryan’s orgasm control play is going to be what gets her off the most. Eventually. 

“No, I think it’s a great idea,” Meg replies cheerfully. “Come on over, Rye.”

“Linds, on the couch. Leg on the arm,” Ryan dictates. 

Jack retreats to a kitchen chair. Besides the couch it’s the only furniture in the room, a weathered thrift store table with enough chairs to sit the core members of FAHC. The other three couples apartments feature them too; tables where, if furniture could talk, would only tell stories of badass moves made by a growing enterprise. The chair is a bit further away from the pairing than she was before, but it'll be a better angle. Not to mention Jack tends to go weak in the knees when she comes, and there is a one hundred percent chance she’ll be jerking off to Ryan teasing Lindsay into a frenzy. A millimeter of carpeting isn’t enough padding for collapsing onto.

After a minute or two of watching Lindsay and Ryan while standing up, Meg decides to join Jack in her superior angle. She makes to sit on one of the weathered wooden chairs and, strangely, gasps loudly as she settles.

“What's with you?”

“Huh?”

“The noise. You pull a muscle or something?”

Meg laughs. “Not quite.”

“Then what?”

“I dunno if you'll find this kinky or weird. Guess it doesn't matter. I didn't do it for you.”

Jack is intrigued. Meg's by far the kinkiest of them all. Every other time they have sex she blows her mind in some new way. Jack still counts eating her out on the makeshift sex swing as one of the best moments of her life. “Tell me.”

“Before I left for my way here, I did something. I squatted down and spread my pussy apart, then pulled my panties up as high as they'd go.”

“Uh...”

“No, no. It's way better than it sounds. With all that fabric tight against my labia it adds all this pressure. Every step I take it rubs. Holy fuck does it rub. And sitting down?” Meg's grip on Jacks thigh ratchets much tighter. “Do you have any idea how hard the seam is riding my clit right now?”

“Let me see,” Jack blurts out.

“Really?”

Well, she’s hardly going to back down now. “Why tell me about it if you aren't showing off? If I invented some new sick bondage style I'd show you.”

Meg chuckles. “Okay then.” 

She gasps a second time as she stands. The seam must be shifting inside her again. Meg unties the drawstring of her pyjama pants and drops them. Jack’s eyes instantly dart to Meg's cunt. It's the most extreme cameltoe she's ever seen. The pink panties make a wadded line down her pubic mound, but as soon as her cunt lips start, the fabric separates them. From what Jack can tell without standing up, the treatment continues up her crack. No doubt there's equal pressure on her asshole, rubbing her sensitive there too.

“Wait... Ryan...”

Jack was pretty preoccupied with Lindsay, but she looked over once or twice at her other two occasional lovers, and she’s positive they got as far as hands in pants. Ryan came for fucksake.

Meg smiles at Jack, closer to a leer than a Sunday picnic with the family smile. “Yeah, she probably grazed her knuckles as she was fingering me.” 

“Ryan, why didn’t you say anything?” Jack bursts out.

Ryan emits a noise that’s half grunt, half ‘I dunno’. 

“Maybe she wanted you to get a surprise too?” Lindsay always thinks the best of everyone. Jack loves that about her, and hopes their goals of an criminal kingdom don’t devastate her as she loses her innocence. 

Jack lunges to her feet, and in a one-two punch yanks the top of Meg’s panties higher up and puts her thumb on top of her clit. Meg rises to her tiptoes and squeaks. Jack keeps the pressure going, but drops her other hand down. She runs her fingers over Meg’s separated lips, fingers V’ed for better coverage. Meg whimpers. Jack likes the sound so much she does it again.

“Fuck, you're so fucking sopping that they'll probably plop to the ground.”

“Mmm hmm,” Meg groans. Her breath shakes the way it always does when she's close.

Jack kisses her for a second. “Are my ankles in the splash zone?”

“Yeah.” Her answer turns into a taunt, because Meg doesn’t have a single submissive bone in her body. “Yeah, do it, come on. Make me come.”

Jack does as she's told. Meg lets the world know of Jack’s success by putting her hands over her mouth and screaming into her palms. Talk about another sound Jack adores hearing.

Jack is so wet she can feel her pussy lips slide slickly against each other when she adjusts her stance. She really wants something in her, whether it’s a tongue, a finger, a hand, a tea towel. Anything that would truly fill her. 

“Can someone fuck me, please?” She calls out to the room. She doesn’t care who’s technique she’s about to fall prey to, is happy for any of her crew to be on her. 

One thing about being poor -or strategically spending, as Geoff would say- is the lack of furniture. Jack and Geoff aren’t quite ‘everything is made out of pizza boxes’ territory, but it’s nothing great. When Meg and Lindsay slip out of the living area to her bedroom she knows what they’re going to find. She knows what they’re looking for. Instead of having them tucked away in a birchwood side cabinet, all her toys are in a laundry basket. It’s not upper class, no way, but maybe it makes things less bullshit, truths laid bare. One day Jack will be the queen of an empire, rich with all her secrets hidden behind closed doors. For now, she’s broke and open.

Meg and Lindsay would never use this against her, though. They come out of her bedroom with her favourite things in hand, and she is safe. It’s another layer in the sediment of knowing she can trust her crew. They spend a second tossing all the couch cushions to the floor, then turn to her with nearly twin smiles. 

“On the floor, babe,” Meg instructs.

“We have to get you from all sides,” Lindsay says. Ominous. Or it would be, if Jack didn’t know exactly what she meant.

“You should be naked,” is Ryan’s contribution. Big words from someone still fully dressed, but Jack can’t disagree. For this she does want to be naked and exposed.

Jack sits, then reclines. The cushions provide a decent padding underneath her. They retain no heat from Lindsay’s time laid out, but the fabric feels pretty good against her bare back. Meg and Ryan kneel on either side on her face, and it’d be like having an angel and demon on her shoulders, except who’s the angel? The faux redhead naked except for stretched out panties? Or the girl fully dressed, but with a wet load of come against her skin? 

Meanwhile, Lindsay is coming back from Jack’s bedroom a second time. This time she’s got one of the few skirts Jack owns in hand, a cyan coloured velvet skirt. Lindsay tosses it, and looking right up Jack sees Meg catching it. Meg tries to pass one edge of it to Ryan. She stares at the skirt a moment before she seems to suddenly understand Meg’s plan and accepts it. And then they’re both stretching it over Jack’s face, descending it slowly until the fabric is on her forehead, her chin, the bridge of her nose. The velvet feels sumptuous against her skin. Sure it’s making it so that she can’t see, but why should she need to? She has her crew, the people who’ve got her back all around her. If something happens she won’t need to see to make it out alive.

Jack jumps when Lindsay strokes ten fingertips down her torso. She exhales a short puff, and the hot air lingers in her face. Lindsay does it again, and Jack shivers. It’s not that it’s the most erotic thing she’s ever joined in on, Meg’s thought of better than this in the past. It’s the surprise of it all.

Her repeated movement must annoy the girls, because a minute in and the skirt is exchanging hands. It’s Ryan only holding the fabric in place now, palms flat to the floor on either side of her face. The advantage to it only being Ryan’s duty is two fold. For one, it’s a closer fit now. Jack’s got a luxurious mask for the fraction of the price of a Mr S’s hood. And it feels better than leather would. Thin enough to not weigh her face down, thick enough to be impenetrable by light. Secondly, Ryan’s takeover gives Meg the chance to pull Jack’s arms over her head. Meg’s thin, neatly manicured during a YouTube tutorial marathon fingers are curled around Jack’s wrists. Stereotyping would have it be a battle of the weak- the girl who can’t keep a grip vs the girl who can’t pull her way apart. Except Meg is hella fucking strong. She weight trains, that shit where she holds dumbbells while running. There’s no question that Meg can pin Jack, easily.

Because Jack can’t see, it comes as a surprise when Lindsay presses a cock against her cunt. Yeah, she saw it in Meg’s hand when they entered the room, the red harness and peach shaded dildo, but there’s a difference between thinking it could happen and firm rubber caressing her lips. The startlement does nothing to dampen the arousal though. Jack’s so wet Lindsay easily slips a line down her labia. 

“Oh my god. Fuck me fuck me fuck me.” Jack’s nothing short of demanding. She needs to be filled, she’s fucking dying for it.

Lindsay blessedly rocks her hips up, fucking the strapon into Jack. It’s exactly the stretch her aching cunt needs. She moans into the skirt wrapped around her head, unable to tell how much sound is escaping the fabric. Maybe Lindsay heard her. Maybe it’s just what Lindsay wants to do. Either way she starts fucking Jack in earnest, and Jack is so fucking grateful. She undulates her back and the worn corduroy against her skin is like a velvet glove, stitched to match the barrier on her face.

As Jack squirms with the delicious pleasure of getting fucked, Ryan and Meg’s bondages doing nothing for the lower two thirds of her, the cushions underneath her begin to part. Jack ends up bare ass against the thin carpet, cunt pointed down. Lindsay’s solution to the problem is to put both her palms onto soles of Jack’s feet and push upwards. Jack ends up with her knees around her breasts, and her pussy angled entirely differently for Lindsay to slam into. 

After Jack comes, Ryan loosens her grip on the skirt. At the same moment Meg lets go of her wrists. Jack still has Lindsay with her, though. Lindsay is canting her hips back and forth against Jack, fucking her for the sole purpose of getting herself off on the smaller inward facing dildo on the harness. Fabric tossed to the side with a particularly enthusiastic head shake Jack can see how close to orgasm Lindsay is. How can she begrudge her that, even if it is making her oversensitized? Jack loves all her girls, loves the whole crew. But there’s this dynamic between her and Lindsay, where she just can’t deny Lindsay a thing. Everyone knows it.

Another thing everyone knows about Lindsay; her dynamic with Ryan. Kind of the exact opposite of Jack’s, actually. Jack doesn’t know how she forgot about it, even for a second, but she gets a solid reminder in Ryan’s actions the instant Lindsay comes. Linds slumps forward onto Jack in the aftermath. Their breasts could be rubbing if it wasn’t for Jack having legs. Ryan, however, isn’t about to let sleeping dogs lie. She pulls Lindsay up by the hips and undoes the harness with impatient fingers. She shoves it down Lindsay’s legs just enough to get the dildo out of her, just a bit down her thighs. Then she snakes her hand between Lindsay’s legs and covers her mound. Ryan plunges four fingers inside Lindsay and pumps upwards.

“Oh my-” Lindsay cuts herself off with a pant. “Is that. Fuck. Is that four?”

“You deserve it,” Ryan says, congratulatory. 

But what she really means is Lindsay deserves to edge more. She vigorously fingerfucks Lindsay until the cursing of god is nonstop, fucking her for the enjoyment of everyone else in the room. It’s a show, and one they would all watch a million times over. Jack doesn’t talk to Michael about what Lindsay’s like on girls night, that’d be crossing a line for anyone except Meg and Gavin, maybe, but she has to hope that Michael gets to see Lindsay like this too. He’s a good dude, he deserves to see Lindsay in her element. Well, one of them, the other one being Lindsay with a barb wire wrapped baseball bat, making a pointed statement to disrespectful dickbags. That one Jack already knows Michael’s well aware of, though.

Ryan stops before Lindsay comes, because of course she does. It’s what they both want, Ryan giddy and powerful as Lindsay’s chest heaves and her thighs clamp together. Jack herself is satiated, and if Meg wasn’t, she’d’ve made that clear.

“Want to have some food, wear some robes and relax?” There’s no better aftercare Jack can think of than fluffy robes and sugar on her tongue. And as this month’s girls night host, it’s sort of her job to provide aftercare.

“I can make a cheese omelet?” Ryan offers. Jack nods her head in temptation. Greasy is almost as good as sugary. 

When they stand up to reconvene a few feet away in the kitchen, Jack half trips on her discarded skirt. She leaves it where it is, but mentally files a note to deal with it later. Like many things her girls introduce, Jack’s going to add this to her repertoire. She could just put the skirt itself in her bedroom basket basket. She and Geoff have got a lot of perverted items, in the original ‘change’ form of the word. Or she could get Geoff some fabric. Jack doesn’t know all of Geoff’s past, but there’s skills there, learned somewhere between punk rock denim jackets and stitching up wounds you can’t afford to take to a doctor. A length of velvet with Velcro handstitched on could be just perfect. Either way, Jack is definitely doing this again.

Not tonight though. The girls won’t go home for hours yet, not until the normal people of the city finish watching prime time tv and settle down for David Letterman. Jack can’t fathom the amount of times she’ll come before Ryan and Meg and Lindsay leave, and Geoff comes back home, but she does know each orgasm will be different. If there’s one positive trait her crew shares, it’s a surplus of creativity. So Jack leaves the velvet skirt on the ground and goes to wrap herself in one of the robes Meg’s already retrieved. Whatever happens in the next few hours, she can be sure it’ll be just as good, if not better than what’s just happened. Creativity and ambition and everything fun, that’s what good crew girls are made out of.


End file.
